Drunken Hopes
by AisonX
Summary: Haymitch's Point Of View of The Hunger Games. I know, I know, I just had to write it. So... Enjoy! T for Haymitch's language. POV - Haymitch
1. Chapter 1

**Well, this is Haymitch's POV of the hunger games... I've read a lot of stories like this, and I liked them. But reading wasn't enough. I just _had_ to write one...ugh. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_ Splash._

Something cold. There was something cold. That was all my cloudy mind could register at the moment.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Something trickled down my back. It tickled.

It was one of those life-sucking leeches in the games. I just knew it.

With a roar of fury, I sat up. The dagger was already in my hand.

"Go. Away!" I bellowed through my gritted teeth, slashing at whatever in sight. There was a squeal.

"Haymitch!" Somebody jumped away. She had a pink wig and her face was drowned in capitol makeup. Her high-heels thumped on the ground. I slowly stopped slashing and looked around.

I was at District Twelve. The Victor's house. Not the forest in the games.

My head hurt. My arm holding the dagger dropped onto the ground. Everything was too bright. It hurt my eyes.

"Put the blinds on." I slurred. "Let me sleep."

"Haymitch!" The person squealed again. The person. Effie. Effie Trinket. I blinked at her blearily. "It's the day of the reaping!"

_The Reaping._

Those words were familiar. I didn't want to think about it. My head throbbed.

"What?"

Sighing, Effie grabbed my arm and tried to drag me up. Bad mistake. With a growl, I yanked my arm away.

Effie's face turned red with irritation. She stomped on the ground, and I winced. The sound was bad.

"It's the reaping day. You better get up now!" She shrieked in my ear. I groaned.

Whatever to get her to shut up. "Coming." I mumbled.

* * *

Five minutes later, I was standing in the crowd, leaning against a chair. People were shifting nervously. Of course. Today was the reaping.

Somebody up front was babbling on with the microphone. I resisted the urge to cover my ears.

"Somebody get me a drink." I muttered, staring at the ground. I wondered who this year's tributes were going to be. Probably just another two scrawny seam kids.

"Haymitch!" Somebody hisses. "Get ready!" I looked over to him.

He's holding a bottle. That's all I saw. Without asking, I snatched the bottle away from him and downed the contents.

Everything blurred. The man yelled at me, and I yelled back cheerfully. Here comes the light feathery feeling... the drifting... it's all coming now...

Who's that lady up front in the pink wig?

I stumble up to her. She looks annoyed. Did I care? I had no idea. I grinned happily.

"Uhn!" I took a step towards her, opening my arms. I squashed her against me and she squealed, pushing me off.

Somebody beckoned me over. I stumbled there. Oh! There's an empty chair. I sat down heavily on it.

"Let us welcome Effie Trinket!" Somebody said. Loud.

The lady in the pink wig went up the stage. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor!" She squeals. The shrill sound hurt my ears. I groaned.

"It is an _honor_ to be here today..." She droned on. I buried my head in my hands.

"Ladies first!"

My head lifted. I desperately wished for myself to just relax and go to sleep, but I couldn't. Something tells me that this is important.

I decide to trust my instincts. I always do. I look at the lady in the pink wig.

It's hard to concentrate. Everything is blurry. Black spots dance around in my vision, but I force myself to stare at the slip of paper in the lady's hand.

"Primrose Everdeen."

* * *

_Now would be a good time to pass out,_ I thought to myself. Instead, I find myself waiting.

A little blond girl takes some stiff steps up the stairs. Blond. Why is she blond? That is unusual here.

She looks young. Probably twelve. She looks vulnerable.

_She doesn't stand a chance._

I lean back into my chair, unsure of what I just thought. I didn't get it. Something is nagging on the back of my memory.

"Prim! Prim!" Somebody shrieks in the audience. A mourning family member, maybe. Oops.

"I volunteer!" The same voice gasps. "I volunteer!"

_Volunteer._ The word echoes around in my head. For some reason, I find myself craning my head to see who said that.

It's a girl. An older one. She shares some resemblance with the girl who's name was called, but this one looks lean and muscular. And she has brown hair instead of blond.

"Lovely!" There goes the shrill sound again. "But I believe there's a small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um..."

The shrill sound trails off. My ears are pounding.

"What does it matter?" Somebody says gruffly.

Silence. "What does it matter?" He repeats. "Let her come forward."

A scream.

Then, "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

Ah, the mourning part.

"Prim, let go."

Murmuring.

Footsteps.

Silence.

I close my eyes.

"Well, bravo!" Pink wig lady shrieks into the microphone, and my eyes pop open. "That's the spirit of the games! What's your name?"

"Katniss Everdeen." A voice, hard. Steely, even. Closed off.

"I bet my buttons that was your sister. Don't want her to steal all the glory, do we? Come on everybody! Let's give a big round of applause to out newest tribute!"

Silence.

Slowly, everyone moves. Not to bring their hands together and clap, but to bring three fingers from the left hand to their lips, then to the girl. The newest tribute.

I rose.

"Look at her. Look at this one!" I holler, throwing an arm around the girl's shoulders. She doesn't flinch. Good.

"I like her! Lots of..." I stop and think. Everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to continue. "Spunk!" I finish.

Slowly, I began to feel woozy. No. Not yet. I raise a finger and looked around for my target.

There. That camera. "More than you! More than you!"

I grin. Everyone is looking at me... why?

My face is on the screens. Capitol must be looking at me...

Slowly, I topple off the stage.

* * *

**There! Well that turned out okay... I think. Remember, review and give suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy! Not my best chapter, I know...**

* * *

I drink.

Nothing registers in my mind. My mind's blank. I just keep drinking.

My bottle is my life line.

_Drip. Drip._

My life, slowly fading away.

Just like Maysilee's.

Candy pink birds.

* * *

His name's Peeta Mellark. Baker's child. He's okay, I guess.

He comes over when he sees me. He opens his mouth.

"I'm going to take a nap." I interrupt.

He looks reluctant, but he agrees. I walk to my room and fall on the bed.

I'm slipping away into unconsciousness...

No. I need my alcohol.

Too late.

Nightmares.

_Maysilee stops. She leans against a tree._

_ "What?" I ask her._

_ "I'm not continuing unless you tell me where you're going."_

_ I sigh. "Just keep walking."_

_ "No."_

_ I stop. "It's gotta end somewhere, right? This place."_

_ Maysilee follows._

* * *

The dream shifts. Suddenly I'm running.

_ "Maysilee!" I yell. "Maysilee!"_

_ Screaming. Maysilee screaming._

_ "I'm coming!" I yell. "Maysilee!"_

_ I follow her screams. I come to an open area._

_ Candy pink birds everywhere. They pierce Maysilee's neck. Blood flows out. That's all I see._

_ I drop down on my hands and knees. "Maysilee." I whisper. Her eyes flicker over to my direction._

_ "You have to win." _

_ I held her hand. Slowly her eyes become empty. Unseeing._

_ "I will. For both of us."_

* * *

I wake up, gasping. My face is drenched in sweat. I grappled around for a bottle.

Having found one, I raised it to my lips, feeling the alcohol trickling in. I sighed, feeling the effects. Everything blurred. I distinctly remember I was upset about something... what?

I stumble out of my room. Outside, everyone is crowded around the dinner table. Leftover bits of food were still on the plates.

"I miss supper?" I slurred. Everyone turns and looks at me.

I open my mouth to say more, but instead my breakfast comes up. I vomit on the carpet and fall in it, not missing the familiar gasp of disgust from a person in a pink wig... Effie, I think?

"So laugh away!" The same person said, hopping out of the room, leaving me with two bewildered people staring at me.

There was a split silence while the two kids just stared at me. I realize I'm sitting on the floor.

The two kids reached out simultaneously. I looked at them questioningly, wondering why they were grabbing my arms.

Then I looked down and realized I must've been on the ground a second ago and they just helped me up.

"I tripped?" I slur. "Smells bad."

It did. I wiped my hand on my nose and one of the kids flinched.

"Let's get you back to your room," somebody said. The voice sounded distant. "Clean you up a bit."

I gladly relax and drift off.

"Haymitch Abernathy!" I'm woken up by a shrill sound. _What?_ I look around to find myself on my bed. How did I get here?

I groan as I sat up. My head throbbed painfully. Hangover.

"What happened?" I say, grappling around the bed and feeling for my weapon."Where's my dagger?"

Effie makes a sound of disgust. "Get up!"

I scowled and wave her through the door. Then I changed into a more comfortable, less formal wear and walk out the door.

I sat down, calling for a glass of liquor. I get a glass of juice instead. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the bottle of spirit and squirted it into the glass of juice. Effie made a tsk-tsk sound.

Before she could say anything, however, somebody walked in. Effie immediately turned her attention to him.

"Peeta!" She said in her shrill capitol voice. "Have some breakfast!"

Peeta's eyes widen as he takes in the food and he grabs a roll. Then he turns to me.

I look back at him, expecting him to cower or give a wimpy 'hi' like the other district twelves that I have mentored, but instead he said something that caught me off guard.

"Keep Katniss safe, in the games. She's the better survivor, and we both know it."

There was a split silence. Then I chuckle, giving Peeta a knowing look, but before I could say anything, Katniss enters.

"Sit down, sit down!" I beckon Katniss over. Peeta's face reddened and I smirked, observing him out of the corner of my eyes.

Katniss sat down, staring at the food in wonder. I rolled my eyes. It's always the same. Underfed children takes a look at capitol food for the first time.

Katniss narrows her eyes at a cup of hot chocolate. Personally, I prefer liquor. Peeta noticed Katniss's questioning expression.

"They call it hot chocolate." He said. "It's good."

I didn't know how he knew that, but I didn't bother asking. I continue adding spirit to my glass of juice.

"So, you're supposed to give us advice." Somebody says. It takes me a moment to realize she's talking to me.

_Yeah, right. They ask me that every year. And every year, they end up dying on the __bloodbath. Not even past the first night._

I grin. "Here's some advice. Stay alive." I said. The kids stared at me, incredulous expressions on their faces. I laugh.

"That's very funny." Peeta says. I glance at him, but he isn't focusing on me. He's focusing on my glass of juice. "Only not to us."

Suddenly, he lashes out and my glass of juice shatters on the floor. I narrow my eyes at the boy.

He looks pretty muscular, but too soft. Not much bruises. I give him a well deserved punch.

His eyes widen. I roll my eyes and reach back for my spirits， but a knife blocks my fingers from the bottle.

It takes me a while to realize that the knife came from the female tribute, Katniss. She's tense, bracing herself for my hit.

I lean back. Katniss has clearly spent her time in the woods behind district twelve. I could tell from her natural hunting instinct which reflected from her eyes. Plus, I had been in the woods before when I was her age also.

That was a first. No other tributes I had mentored before had been in the woods. I squint at Katniss.

"Well, what's this?" I say, observing Katniss. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

Peeta reaches out for the ice, raising it to the mark where I punched him. I grit my teeth.

"No." I stop him. "Let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

"That's against the rules." Peeta objected. I roll my eyes and resist the urge to groan in frustration.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." I say, and slowly a look of understanding shows on Peeta's face. I turn to Katniss.

"Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"

She grabs her knife and throws it into the wall across the room. It lodges in the seam between two panels.

I whistled approvingly in my mind. Can't get my hopes yet, though.

"Stand over here, both of you." I lead them to the middle of the room. They follow.

Looking at Katniss, I can tell she's underfed, but not the worst. Time spent in the forest paid off. I prod at her arm, testing the muscle there. She gives me an incredulous look.

Peeta is better fed, but he seems soft. Not enough experience with hunting, killing. I check his muscles. Not bad.

"Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." I concluded. Katniss and Peeta nodded.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," I say, "But you have to do exactly what I say."

There was a silence while the tributes thought this over.

"Fine." Peeta decides. He crosses his arms.

"So help us," Katniss raised her eyebrow. Already strategizing. Good. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone—"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist," I interrupt. First things first.

"But-"

"No buts. Don't resist." I stare at Katniss hard, willing her to understand. When she didn't say anything, I grab the bottle of spirits and walk off.

Outside, I pass Cinna and Portia. They give me a grin. I stared straight ahead, ignoring them. Ignoring the fact that this year's tributes may stand a chance after all.

* * *

**Okay, I'm a bit disappointed with this chapter. Not my best. I didn't have that much inspiration when I wrote this. Sorry!**

**Anyways, I hope next chapter turns out better.**

**Remember, R&R!**


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